Historical Hamilton Oneshots

Bad Idea-Hamliza/Lams

A/N: sorry that I haven't posted in such a long time. hopefully i'll get back on track soon. anyway......here's......whatever this is

Eliza's POV

"Ready to go, my darling?" Eliza Schuyler asked her fiancé. Alex, as usual, was busy writing, his magpie feather quill flying across a piece of parchment at such an alarmingly fast speed that Eliza wondered if the Caribbean man was actually writing intelligible sentences or merely scribbling for the fun of it. "Or are you too busy writing?"

Alex's quill paused its rapid scrawl and he shifted in his seat to look at Eliza. "I'm never too busy for you, my Betsey. I have one more sentence to write, and then we'll be off." He pressed a kiss to Eliza's cheek before resuming his writing.

"What are you writing, anyway?" inquired Eliza, feeling half-amused, half-fascinated as she watched her future husband in his zone. Writing seemed to be the only thing-other than talking-that Alex was able to do for hours on end without stopping. 

Alex finally finished his writing and folded the parchment into the thirds, carefully stuffing it into an envelope and sealing it with hot wax. He scribbled something on the front of the envelope-likely an address-before setting the letter on his desk and turning to Eliza. "Just a letter to a dear friend of mine, John Laurens (A/N since it's August 27, anyone else crying over John's death? Just me? Okay). I've definitely mentioned him to you before. He's the one who was trying to form a black battalion-before Charleston was captured, anyway. He's a prisoner-of-war right now and confined to Philadelphia, so the only way we can communicate is through letters."

"He sounds like a very interesting man," Eliza remarked. "Anyway, shall we go for that walk now?"

"Yes, let's," Alex agreed, pulling on a matching forest green waistcoat and jacket over his simple linen shirt. It was only early September, but that chill that often came with the arrival of autumn hung in the air, so Eliza, too, added a jacket to her sweeping ice blue gown before accepting the arm Alex offered her and exiting her fiancé's house. 

"So, tell me more about this friend of yours," Eliza prompted as she and Alex made their way down (insert street name here). Despite Alex's tendency to talk non-stop for hours and hours, few of the words he spoke were about his personal life, and Eliza sometimes felt she knew absolutely nothing about her fiancé. So she jumped at any chance to learn more about Alex, hoping it would help her to better understand the man she would soon be marrying. "The two of you are very close, aren't you?"

Normally it took a while to coax an answer to a question like out of Alex-his fiancée could mention pretty much any person he'd been close with in the past and Alex would instantly clam up-but when Alex's beautiful azure eyes lit up at the question, Eliza could tell this would not be the case. She was proven correct when the Caribbean man immediately began speaking as quickly as humanly possible, the way he always did when he had so much to say and not all the time in the world to say it. 

"John is probably the closest friend I've got," Alex began. He glanced sideways at Eliza and booped her lightly on the nose, causing his fiancée to giggle. "Besides you, of course, but that's different, as you are my fiancée. He's the son of Henry Laurens-you know, former president of the Continental Congress-but he's absolutely nothing like his bastard of a father. He...."

Eliza listened as her husband described every single aspect of John Laurens's personality of life in excruciating detail. It was a gorgeous day out-warm with a cool breeze, the bright blue sky containing only a few fluffy white clouds, the sun's rays providing warmth but not enough to cause everyone to overheat-and Eliza admired her surroundings as they walked. Of course she couldn't help but admire her fiancé too, who looked more handsome than ever. Alex's gingery locks were devoid of a wig and secured at the base of his neck with a simple black ribbon in the traditional clubbing style that many men wore their hair in, and his soft lips were curved upwards in an almost dreamy smile as he gave Eliza an in-depth description of John's combat skills at the Battle of Brandywine.